A Mile in My Shoes
by IcarusWing
Summary: When he's finally listened to one drunken rant too many, America leaves England in a bar. But when England's fairy friends hear of this, they decide to teach America a lesson he'll never forget. When America wakes up the next morning, he finds he's no longer in New York, people are calling him England, and everyone is talking about a mysterious bushy browed boy in the New World...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there, dearest readers. I'm starting another multichapter, and the updates for this one won't be as structured as for my other one. This won't be very long though, only maybe between five and ten chapters. This story is about America being forced to repeat the past in England's place so he can understand why he was never able to let the Revolution go. Subsequently, England learns why America had to succeed from him in the first place. If anyone has already done this, then I apologize, but I'll flatter myself by saying that I think this is a relativity original idea. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, though not for lack of trying.**

* * *

America was pissed.

Sure, England did this all the time, and sure, he was used to it, but that was no excuse.

"After all I did for you…" England rambled on, waving his glass around as glass around, whiskey sloshing over the side.

He acted like the _entire _thing was his fault, like he was this absolutely angelic older brother who hadn't oppressed his people for a century and a half. He acted like America had just thrown him aside without a thought when their relationship no longer suited him.

As though it hadn't been just as hard for him.

It had been one drunken rant too many.

"That's enough, old man," said America, snatching the glass out of his hand. England tried to take a swig of alcohol, but stared at his hand in confusion when he noticed it was empty. "What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing with me liquor, yank?" he asked, glowering as he tried to retrieve it.

America's glare outmatched his own. "I've had enough of this… this… abuse, old man! You need to get over it!" And with that, he left.

"Leaving me again, are you?" was the last thing he heard before the bar door shut behind him.

* * *

England moaned, slamming his head into the bar counter. Since America had left, he'd have no choice but to call someone to take him home. Preferably not France, because he'd never contracted an STD and he was rather proud of that status, thank you very much.

"England? Are you okay?" asked a little voice to his left. England turned to see one of his fairy friends peering at him in concern.

"Hullo, Red," he said glumly. Even her presence wasn't enough to cheer him up at the moment. The ungrateful little git had left him _again._

"He was upset. He didn't mean anything by it," said Red, her scarlet wings fluttering as she descended to sit on the bar. England realized he had spoken out loud.

"He doesn't understand, does he? How much I missed him…" he trailed off, a few tears forming in his clouded eyes as he slurred the words.

_He doesn't understand. _

Red was suddenly struck with an amazing idea. But…

Could it work?

She'd have to discuss it with her friends.

First, though, she'd have to figure out how to teleport England home without the bar tender noticing.

* * *

America sat heavily on his couch, too dispirited to turn on the television. He was also a little bit worried, for that matter. He'd been England's ride home. He'd make it back okay though, right? He could call up France, or… what was his name… Canuckia, right? But what if he tried to go out and hail a cab and got run over, or started a bar fight in his inebriated state and gotten sent to prison and had no one to bail him out and save him from his abusive cell mates?

In a flash, America had stuffed a couple of thousand dollars in his wallet (England could do quite a bit of damage when he was drunk) and was shrugging on his coat to save England from his impending doom when he heard a little voice.

"Hey, you!"

America turned to see a legion of six miniature women with wings fluttering in the air before him, sparkles dropping from their glowing forms.

America shook his head to get rid of the hallucination. For God's sake, he'd only had one beer!

"You had no business saying such insensitive things to England," said the one clothed in green, a scowl marring her otherwise pretty features. That was when America noticed that her accent was distinctly British.

These couldn't possibly be what he thought they were…

"Hey," said America warily. "You wouldn't happen to be those fairy friends Iggy's always talking about, would you?"

"We most certainly would," said the red one, arms crossed.

So he was going crazy, too.

Great.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, but I gotta go bail England out of jail. Bye!" he said quickly. Better to get away from them as soon as possible and forget this ever happened.

"He's not in jail," said the purple one, rolling her eyes. She was the only one who seemed rather indifferent about the whole situation. "We took him home."

"You…" America paused. England's magical mini people trespassing on his property, claiming that they transported their country to his house by mysterious means?

Sounds legit.

"So, um, what do you want from me, exactly?" he asked, growing increasingly nervous. If these magic chicks could do _half_ the things England claimed they could…

Then now would be a very good time to start running.

"We've decided to teach you a lesson," said Red, and there was something that America decidedly _disliked _in her tone. "One that you'll be sure to never forget."

"What do you—" he started, but he was never able to finish his question. A blinding white light blocked out his vision, before it disappeared and darkness overtook him.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that this beginning is a bit short, I just needed to get things started. The other chapters will be longer than this one, I hope. As for the fairies, they're all my OCs. Each one has a very distinctive personality, and is named after the color of their hair, eyes, wings, and dress. We have Red, Orange, Ye;low, Blue, Green, and Violet, and I hope you get to know them more as the story goes on. If you want to use them, or any part of any of my stories in your work, please ask for permission first and give me credit. Remember, pirate Iggy doesn't take kindly to plagiarizers. This story will switch between the POVs of America and England. So, follow, favorite, and most of all, review!**

**Ciao~**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, this story had a much better response than I expected! I'm so happy! **

**Well, here's the second chapter. When this is all finished, I'm going to rewrite the first chapter, because rereading it, I realize that typing up and not editing something at 1 am isn't the best strategy. **

**Later down in this chapter, America is referred to as America/England and England is England/America, just to avoid confusion. If anyone dislikes this, then give me a better suggestion.**

* * *

When America woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in his apartment in New York. He was lying on a grassy hill, and puffy white clouds were rolling peacefully above him.

"What the...?" he trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself. It was rather chilly here, wherever he was, which was rather strange because his bomber jacket was fur lined…

But… where was his jacket?

America looked down to see that his jacket was nowhere to be found, and he was instead wearing an old fashioned (and oddly familiar) reddish-brown vest over shirtsleeves and a pair of rather itchy pants that he had decidedly _not_ purchased in a New York shopping mall.

He stood, looking around. On one side of hill he could see a forest, and he couldn't see past the slope of the other side. He sighed.

"TONY? You there?" he called, hoping that his alien friend had beamed him to another planet while he was sleeping as a practical joke—it certainly wouldn't be the first time. "This isn't funny, dude!"

"Stop making such a racket!" came a small but extremely irritated voice. America turned to find three of England's little friends floating next to him.

"Did you do this to me, mini people?" he asked, baffled as to why these sparkly females would want to prank him.

"We're not mini people, silly," giggled the yellow one. "We're the Fair Folk!" She executed a perfect back flip before flying over to his head and settling down in the soft caramel strands.

"Fairies," he said, not really caring _what _they were called, so long as they sent him back to his world. "Right. So, would you mind, uh, taking me back?" he asked tentatively.

The green one scoffed. "This one's really stupid, isn't he?" she asked the blue one, who just smiled tranquilly. "England sure can pick 'em."

"Hey," said America, not really understanding her comment but realizing that it was insulting, and no one insults the hero. "I never did anything to you," he pouted. This was so unfair. They were always nice to Iggy, so why did they hate him?

The green one was about to make a retort, but was stopped by a touch from the blue one. Instead, she just smirked without saying anything.

"Why don't you go down that hill?" suggested the yellow one brightly, still nestled in his hair.

America couldn't find any reason not to, so he did, and was met by a very strange, though welcome, sight.

Down the hill there was a small stream, and in the middle of it stood a person America managed to identify as France, who was waving at him and shouting something in his general direction. America ran down to him, immensely happy to have someone else in the same position as he. There was another figure sitting at the bank of the stream, but his back was turned, so America couldn't tell who he was.

"Hey, France!" he called out happily, thankful that he wasn't the only one in this strange world. "When did you get here?"

France rolled his eyes, and America was struck by how different he looked. He couldn't quite put his finger on what the change was, though… "I've been here all day, _Angleterre. _Waiting for you, in fact, so roll up your sleeves and trousers and come help me catch some fish," he said. "Finland here was just telling me—"

"Hold on a second," said America, the back of his neck beginning to prickle unpleasantly with a sense of foreboding. "What did you just call me?"

"Surely you haven't forgotten your own name in my language that quickly?" scoffed France, bending down once again, just managing to snag a trout and toss it into a bucket on the bank.

America opened his mouth, but closed it, his cry of _my name's America! _dying on his lips when it clicked.

France looked _younger… _

Almost four hundred years younger, in fact…

But that was impossible, right?

His cool American logic quickly told him that he had to play along if he wanted to get any information. "Uh, y-yeah!" he said quickly, laughing a bit too loudly, rolling up his pants and plodding into the river, though not really watching for trout. "What were you saying about Finland?"

"Ah," said France, the momentary confusion in his eyes forgotten in the face of fresh gossip. "Finland over here," he gestured to the sniffling country sitting on the bank and looking a bit worse for wear, "has just gotten back from the New World. He had built a villa with _Su__è__de, _but got chased out by the Netherlands." France cursed as a fish escaped his grasp.

_This seems familiar, _thought America/England. He couldn't remember very much of the time before he was claimed, but he had a flash of watch a fierce battle through the trees, and running away from the noise.

"And what's worse is that there's a little boy there, too," said Finland, looking up. "Sweden and I saw him. He's all on his own, wandering the fields and forests. The nearest town was a couple of miles away when we spotted him," he said. "He's really cute, too!"

Suddenly, France gasped, dropping the fish he had been struggling with. "All alone, you say? What is he's one of us? Our little brother in the New World?" His eyes were shining with what America/England could only describe as _hunger. _

"Eh? I hadn't thought of that," said Finland, though he looked intrigued at the idea.

"Then it's settled, then!" said France. "We'll travel to the Americas in a week's time!"

* * *

During that week, America/England learned a lot about his new life.

The fairies, Green, Blue, and Yellow as he now knew them as, were constant companions that he quickly realized only he could see. He briefly wondered if that was what England always felt like after the first time he made the mistake of talking to them in public, when he had been exploring the streets of his temporary country. He still wasn't used to being called England or any variation of it, but he had learned to react to it.

The fairies explained to him what they did, but they refused to explain why they did it.

"It should be obvious," Green had said, her delicate nose turned up at him as though she was disgusted by his question. Which, knowing Green, she probably was.

During the week he took to pack and arrange for his voyage, he had come to realize that this England was a lot different than the England he knew. Instead of the stuffy, formal lifestyle the old England's people had led, this England's (his, he had to keep reminding himself) were carefree and unstructured. The men wore shirtsleeves with vests as opposed to tailcoats, and the women's dresses were simple and clean cut. He rather liked the change, but it was unnerving.

The only questions that remained were, where was his England now, and what was waiting for him in the New World?

* * *

When the day of the voyage finally arrived, America/England met France and Finland at the port.

"_Angleterre!" _France called out to him. America/England had noted that this France didn't hate him nearly as much as the old England. In fact, it seemed as though they were on pretty good terms, all things considered. "Are you ready for the journey?" he asked as they boarded the ship, watching as workmen loaded their supplies onto it.

"I think so, yeah," he said, though his insides were squirming with discomfort. What was waiting for him there, and who was this little boy? It couldn't possibly be him, because he was here. _You know who it is, _said a small voice in the back of his mind that he instantly pushed back. _That's crazy, _he thought.

Then again, what about this whole situation _wasn't?_

* * *

Because nations travel the Earth much faster than humans, they reached North America in about a week and a half.

Touching down on the rocky shores, America/England took in the sight of what used to be his home, feeling a dull ache in the part of him that was currently connected to an island on the other side of the ocean. What he felt now was more nostalgic. He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air before following Finland and France along the coast.

Finland was leading them to the spot where he and Sweden had first spotted the little boy wandering the land. But, as was inevitable with nations, an argument broke out on their way there.

"Ah," said France, a dreamy look on his face. "I wonder what my little brother will look like?" he asked, twirling a strand of his long hair absentmindedly around his finger.

"Oh, he's got blonde hair and—" began Finland, but America/England quickly interrupted him.

"Who says he's _your _brother?" he asked, his smile noticeably forced.

France only laughed condescendingly. "Well, who else's could it be?" he asked, as though there wasn't another (well, two other, technically) eligible nation standing right in front of him.

"I think it would be totally awesome if he was _my _brother," said America/England, who allowed just the right amount of coldness to tinge his voice.

Before France could retort, Finland laughed nervously. "Come on, guys," he said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders in a comforting gesture that only served to irritate them both further. "We'll see when we get there, yeah?"

America/England walked ahead briskly, shrugging off Finland's hand. "The faster we walk, the faster we get there and the faster we can stop to eat," he said, not looking back to see if the others had bothered trying to match his pace, and finding that he didn't really care.

He had to see this boy for himself.

* * *

After walking for another hour, Finland suddenly stopped them and led them out of the dense trees and into a large, open field. America/England could see mountains on the horizon, and the wind was blowing through the grass, chilling him slightly. He still hadn't gotten used to these light clothes, and it was colder on this side of the world.

"Look," Finland whispered, pointing to a small shape that seemed to be approaching them curiously. He was tiny, and wearing a little black cloak over his white night gown. Even before America/England could see his eyes, he could make out the enormous eyebrows that dominated the upper half of his face…

Oh, God. This confirmed the same thought that he'd been trying to suppress for two and a half weeks.

It was England. However, the question was, how much did he remember of his past?

He hissed that very question to the three fairies lounging in his hair, their favored spot.

"Nothing at all," said Blue breezily as she wove something out of shredded rose petals. "He thinks he's a new territory."

This was bad, then, because there would be no way England/America would be able to get them back to their own time period with his magic, or at least convince the fairies to do it, which complicated things immensely.

"He has to be my little brother! His hair color is just like mine!" exclaimed France, watching the little boy closely as though he were stalking prey. America/England didn't like the look on his face one bit.

"He has my eyes in a different color," shot America/England, determined to find more resemblances to his now miniaturized older brother, who was looking on with a guarded scowl on his face.

"Ah, he looks nothing like me," said Finland sadly, sitting on the ground to watch France and America/England battle it out.

"Let's let him decide!" declared America/England boldly. Of course England/America would choose the hero over some Frenchie!

France, who seemed to have been waiting for this, reached into the bag slung around his shoulder and pulled out a full, and still hot, French meal, allowing the smell to waft toward the little boy. "Come now, _Amerique," _he said, using his most enticing voice. "Delicious French food awaits you every day with me!"

England/America took a step forward, his little face alight with curiosity.

"What? No!" cried America/England. "Eng—America!" he called out, desperate. It was his responsibility as the hero to take care of England/America until they could get back to their own time period, and he'd be damned if he let France get in the way of his duties.

England/America looked at him, and his eyes widened as he stared at something above America/England's head.

"Hey there, England!" called Yellow, waving cheerily at the little boy. He instantly ran forward and began to pull America/England into a crouch so that he could reach the little women, who complied with giggles (except for Green, who would never do something as happy and simple as _giggling), _fawning over his general cuteness.

"I haven't seen him like this for almost a thousand years!" said Blue, fluttering around his head fondly.

England/America pulled his cloak to the side and pulled America/England's sleeve to get his attention. Nestled in a pocket were the other three fairies, Red, Orange, and Violet, fast asleep.

"Orange!" Yellow exclaimed happily, wrapping her arms around her friend and startling her awake. "We're back!" she said.

Her sunny voice woke the others, who greeted each other cheerfully as America/England and England/America looked on.

France and Finland watched this whole exchange (minus the fairies, of course), both staring open mouthed. "I've—I've been rejected?" spluttered France, as though he couldn't wrap his head around the concept. When the two ignored him, his expression turned into one of cold fury. "Fine," he said, turning on his heel and setting off somewhere that vaguely registered as North. "Take him. I don't want a little brother with such an uncharming appearance as that," he sniffed before leaving. Finland followed after him, sparing the pair one last glance before disappearing into the forest.

* * *

**A/N: Weak ending, I know, but I want to go to bed... **

**Review, pretty please?**


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